Bianca
by trumpetchick9
Summary: A modern retelling of Snow White, in which the title character is vain, the dwarves are men vying for her affection, and Prince Charming is not as perfect as she always dreamed he would be.
1. Mirrors and Men

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Bianca. She had spent the first seventeen years of her life in a small village, bordered on one side by the Pacific Ocean, on the other side by a narrow, winding road that led down the coast. Each person living there had their noses in everyone else's business, and Bianca thrived in that environment. She loved running into friends and neighbors at the market, or at the local café as she was getting her morning cappuccino, or in the park on her walk home from school. She never minded when a young couple shoved a wallet-full of pictures of the little ones in her face or when a middle-aged man or woman launched into a discussion about the business. She even managed to hold a smile on her face when the women tried to needle information from her about the cute boy she had been seen talking to yesterday. "Oh, no one special," she would reply with a shrug, and the women would laugh and tease her, saying that every adolescent boy in the town was pining for her.

"You're so thin!" one would say admirably. "And so pretty. It's no wonder they all chase after you!"

"It's that perfect skin," another would chime in. "Darling, you don't know how lucky you are – when I was your age my face was an absolute mess."

She would smile humbly as they raved over her. They all loved her sweet disposition and her immense beauty. She was their star. The boys who followed her around never managed to catch her attention; she dreamed of someday marrying a rich doctor or lawyer, and these spineless drones would never be enough for her. But the adults she loved. Despite the show she put on, she didn't really mind having the women of the town fawn over her. In fact, she rather enjoyed it.

Bianca headed down the main street, took a left, and admired the building at the end of the tree-lined street ever growing nearer. Made out of gray stone, it stood somber and majestic, conjuring in Bianca's mind an image of the man who had made it all happen, the love of her life: her father. He had designed the house and watched it be built long before Bianca was born, when her mother and father were just newly married. After Bianca's mother died in childbirth, her father had brought her back to the house and raised her, giving her all the love she needed, treating her like a princess. Tall and quiet, her father gave in during every argument because he cherished peace and despised conflict – and, as he told Bianca, he just liked to see her smile. Three years after Bianca's birth, he remarried, bringing a woman into the house who, though she could sometimes be as cold as the stones which housed the family, generally treated Bianca with respect. Bianca was kind to her, but it was her father who really made the home a place where Bianca felt happy and loved. "Daddy's girl," all of the other town residents called her. In that house, in that town, in that family, Bianca felt invincible. She grew up thinking that nothing could harm her there in her little world. But she was too young to understand that the people who hurt us most aren't always our enemies. All too often, they are the ones we trust.

When Bianca unlocked and entered her home that day, she called out through the house and received no answer. She made her way through the front hallway, pausing in front of the enormous mirror hanging on the wall. It was old and dark and bordered by a highly ornamented gold frame. Her stepmother had an eye for fascinating antiques, resulting in the presence of quirky and sometimes ostentatious furniture and decorations throughout the house. This was the most intriguing to Bianca. The mirror seemed to have a story behind it, as if in its earlier years, it had witnessed some dark or secretive events. Chills ran down her spine if she caught her reflection in it while walking around the moonlit house late at night; it seemed as if more than just mere reflections gave life to the mirror.

This afternoon, she stopped for a long moment and surveyed her own big dark eyes, her full crimson lips, and her smooth ivory skin with great admiration. She ran her fingers through her long, silky black hair. Pleased, she noted how well the untamed curls of her youth had been conquered by her hand (with the help of a hot straightening iron) and forced into submission. No matter how long it took, every morning she styled her hair, brushed a light pink powder over her cheekbones, smoothed a line of deep red over her lips, and stroked a black liquid through her eyelashes to enhance her natural beauty, giving her an unearthly, almost angelic glow. The older she grew, the less she would tolerate playing outside in the dirt and the more she cared about the outfits she assembled and the appearance she kept. To the outside observers, those who did not know her well, she seemed to grow more beautiful each day. Thanks to her tendency to keep everyone around her at arm's length, virtually everyone in her world viewed her as an innocent, charming creature.

She scanned her body, critically observing its slimness and slight curves, cursing herself for eating that second cookie during lunch. Thinking she saw a spot on her shirt, she tilted her head down and used her manicured fingernail to scrape the bit of chalk off of her clothes. When she lifted her head back up to glance in the mirror one last time, she gave a start and shrieked. There was another face in the mirror, right beside hers.

Whirling around, she came face to face with the woman. The tension in her body was released with a sigh and a relieved chuckle. "Oh, it's just you, Regina. You startled me!" She put her hand on her heart as it slowed back to a normal rate and sheepishly added, "I didn't realize you were getting your hair done today! You look really different."

"Well, I have to remain looking young and pretty so your father will still want me, don't I?" Her stepmother smiled, but hidden within this seemingly offhand remark, Bianca was sure that she detected an icy edge of bitterness, as if Regina wasn't as okay with aging as she led the world to believe. Bianca had noticed than Regina's insecurities about her appearance had been cropping up quite often lately. Regina now changed her hair color and various makeup styles nearly weekly, as if she hoped that somewhere out there was a style that would make her more beautiful than anyone in the world, if she could only find it. The result of Regina's obsession, Bianca noted, was damaged hair that was getting frizzier with each dyeing, and a layer of makeup that was consistently growing more severe. Bianca was almost sure, though, that Regina thought she was positively bewitching.

Bianca was saved from having to conjure an elaborate false compliment when the door swung open and her father stepped into the foyer. "How's my favorite girl?" He put down his briefcase and gave Bianca a jovial smile.

For a moment, a flame of hope had flickered in Regina's cold heart – until she realized that once again, John was referring to the other woman in his life as his favorite. She watched that silken curtain of black hair swing back and forth as Bianca leapt into the arms of her father. Everything about that girl was perfect. Regina frowned as jealousy crept through her brain, devouring every thought and overcoming common sense.

She had once been his favorite, she thought. When John had dated her, proposed to her, and married her, she had felt like the most special woman in the world, and had decided to overlook the small mistake he had made in creating a child. However, as Bianca grew older, it became harder for Regina to ignore the fact that marrying John had been the mistake. The child stole not only John's attention, but whole town's. Regina, who loved to be center of attention herself, could not stand for this. But she didn't know how to stop this calamity. A divorce would mar her perfect social record – and besides, she couldn't possibly be made to get a job. Only common people could stoop that low, and she was certainly an extraordinary woman worthy of so much more than this.

Regina stared in the mirror on the wall. Time seemed to stop. In her mind she saw her face next to Bianca's. After years of lying to herself and ignoring the truth, Regina finally saw things clearly. Bianca was simply more beautiful. And she could not allow that to continue.

Conversation was sparse at dinner that night. John made a few feeble attempts at conversation, but trailed off each time, giving up altogether when he was unable to break down the inexplicable icy silence between his daughter and wife. Bianca pretended not to notice Regina staring daggers at her. She awkwardly pushed her steamed broccoli around the plate with her fork, avoiding conflict for the sake of her father and silently wondering what she had done to offend her stepmother this time. Regina was prone to letting her temper fly at Bianca for no apparent reason, and Bianca was in no mood to provoke her.

Untrue to Regina's typical fashion, she managed to remain calm for days, which only increased Bianca's nervous anticipation of the impending fight. It happened days later, when the two women were alone in the house. John had left for a business trip shortly after Bianca got home. He had given her a kiss on the cheek, told her he loved her, and requested, with a wink, for her to "hold down the fort" until he got home. Bianca had given him a similarly warm farewell and then had wandered into the den with Grimm's Fairy Tales, which she had been assigned to read for her German class. She settled into the overstuffed easy chair, turned on the television for background noise, curled up under a blanket, and began to read. Her eyelids grew heavy as the room grew darker.

A couple of hours after sunset, Regina came home late from work to find the house dark and silent but for the faint drone of a television. She found Bianca asleep in the chair. As the jealous Regina stared at this spectacular sleeping beauty, envy rose in her throat. Wanting to interrupt Bianca's peace, she snapped off the TV, stood directly beside her, and cleared her throat very loudly.

Bianca's eyelids slowly fluttered open, and her mouth stretched wide open in a tremendous yawn. "What-"

Regina cut her off, speaking sharply and coldly. "Why are you lying here, sleeping, when I'm sure you have homework to be doing? Why isn't your father making you work? Where is he, anyway?"

"He went on a business trip, remember? He's gone," Bianca informed her in a sleepy voice, slowly sitting up straight.

"Gone? Gone? He told me he would wait to say goodbye to me before he left!" Regina looked more furious than Bianca had ever seen her.

"Well, I guess he wanted to get a start before dark." Bianca shrugged casually, trying to alleviate some of the building tension.

"And I suppose he said goodbye to you?" Her voice grew more shrill.

Bianca nodded. She got up and walked toward the kitchen. "I guess he likes me better," she joked.

Regina apparently did not think that it was very funny. She grabbed Bianca's arm and wrenched the girl around to face her. "He does NOT like you better, you little brat!" Regina shouted. It was the breaking point. She couldn't take any more of Bianca's flippant remarks or insults disguised as jokes. She couldn't take Bianca's smug smile when she looked at her stepmother, as if she knew she was more beautiful and desirable and wanted to make sure Regina knew it too. She couldn't take Bianca's perfect, thin body and the attention it commanded. She couldn't live one more day wondering whether John secretly loved his daughter more. She knew. Bianca was number one in John's life, and that was never going to change. Rage boiled through her veins as she slammed Bianca's back into the refrigerator.

Tears spilled out of Bianca's bright, perfect eyes. "What is wrong with you? What did I do to deserve this?" she exclaimed.

"You were born!" Regina howled. "Everyone wants to be you, everyone loves you. Well I DON'T!" she yelled, slamming her back up against the refrigerator, then dropping her hands.

Bianca was positively shell-shocked by Regina's show of physical violence, but she did not cower. Something stronger than fear rose up and she placed her hands against the taller woman's shoulders and pushed her backwards with all her might. "How dare you touch me!" she shouted back, letting her own temper fly.

Regina gasped as she stumbled backwards into the kitchen counter. "Oh no. You're going to be sorry," she shook her head once she gathered her bearings. Bianca hesitated. In one quick motion, Regina's hand swooped down and plucked a kitchen knife out of the block. She planted her other hand against Bianca's chest in a blind fury, pinned her against the refrigerator, and held the knife up to her throat.

Both women froze, sweating and panting from passionate fury and physical exertion. For one lingering moment, their eyes locked, Biancas' holding a faltering courage and Regina's emanating a wrathful hatred. Bianca let out a strangled, pleading cry as Regina pressed the knife blade against her skin.

Regina couldn't do it. Though her heart told her hand what to do, she couldn't move one millimeter. She collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Bianca's heart and mind were racing. Not fully aware of what she was doing, guided by the basic human instinct to survive, she scooped her keys off of the counter and raced towards the front door, slamming it behind her as she fled. With a wildly shaking hand, she unlocked her car door as fast as she could, turned the key in the ignition, threw the car into reverse, sped out of the driveway, and squealed down the street as fast as she could, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

It wasn't until much later that Bianca's mind settled back down into her body and she began to become consciously aware of her surroundings. She was driving north on the rugged highway leading from her town, faster, she noted after a quick glance at her speedometer, than she had ever driven, even on an empty open highway.

Bianca buckled her seatbelt in and turned down the volume of the angry punk-rock band belting through her stereo system. She wiped the sweat off of her face and squinted, trying to see in the dark where she was going. The drive up the coast to San Francisco was familiar to Bianca, but she had never driven very far along the road in the opposite direction. It only led to more small towns and state parks and she never had any reason to go that way, except for that gut instinct that was guiding her tonight. The same feeling told her to drive as fast as she could; she had no way of knowing what her crazed stepmother would do once she collected herself and realized Bianca was missing. Her foot pressed the gas pedal down even closer to the floor. Her little car sped around the curves, dangerously wavering on the edge of cliffs several times.

What had happened back at the house? Regina had snapped, and though Bianca wasn't sure why, she had a pretty good guess. After all of those times of catching Regina's face in the mirror beside hers, after all of those envious glances and bitter glares, Bianca had a good guess as to why-

Bianca screamed. As her mind had wandered, so had her car – into the path of oncoming traffic. Headlights blinded her. Bianca's white-knuckled hands jerked the wheel to the right and her car rocketed off of the road, through some gravel, then began tumbling down a large ravine. As her car slammed into a tree, Bianca's head hit the side of the car and everything went black.

When Bianca awoke, she found herself in the middle of a forest, in what used to be her car, with a deflated airbag lying in her lap. It must have been day, for she could see beams of light filtering through leaves and stretching to the forest floor through the broken windshield. The car was wedged up against the trunk of a tree, and the side was scrunched in, preventing her from opening the door to escape the twisted mess of metal. Faintly, the events of the previous night that had led her to this point started to come back to her.

She had no idea where she was, and in her frantic departure she hadn't had time to grab her cell phone. She started to panic, rapidly scanning the trees for anyone or anything that could come to her rescue. A short distance away, she spotted a house. Ignoring a pounding headache, Bianca wriggled out of her seat, over the gear stick, and out the passenger's side door, which mercifully opened without too much difficulty. She stepped out of the car, putting her weight on her left leg… and crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain. It must have broken in the crash, she realized, noticing a puffy swollen area on the bottom half of her leg. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she pushed up off of the ground and stood on her right foot. By a combination of hopping on her right foot, gingerly dragging her left leg, and supporting herself against trees, she made her way to the house, stopping often to lean on a tree and catch her breath. It was exhausting work, but she finally reached the house and rang the doorbell.

No answer. She banged on the door again and again, but to no avail. After some time, she gave up and slumped down on the porch, knowing she could go on no further.

It was Brian who saw her first. When the guys pulled up and unloaded themselves from the van, Brian noticed an oddly shaped mass by the front door. As he approached, he saw that it was a small, pretty, dark-haired woman. She appeared to have suffered some great physical trauma. Her very pale arms had little cuts all over them, and a large purple bruise colored her left forehead.

The other guys drifted to the doorway and one by one crowded behind him, making a ruckus. "Who the hell is that?" Dave asked, kneeling down next to Brian beside her.

"See if she's breathing!" Corey, a tall redhead, suggested.

Dave pressed two fingers to her neck and felt a pulse. "She's alive. I wonder what she's doing here," he mused, standing up.

Trevor nudged him. "That may have something to do with it," he said, pointing into the woods. The others followed his gaze to what apparently had once been a car but now resembled a smashed tin can.

"Holy shit," Dave exclaimed. "Let's get her inside!" The strongest of the men, he put his arms under her and scooped her up, carrying her into the house, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. He placed her motionless body gently on his rumpled, unmade sheets. They all stood around her in amazement, staring at the beautiful creature lying on Dave's bed.

When Bianca awoke, she noticed the faint odor of dirty sweat socks and a flock of adolescent males all staring down at her. "Good Lord, where am I?" she moaned, stretching out and rolling onto her back.

"Monterey," a pale blonde male with a long nose answered.

"Actually, in the woods, pretty far south of Monterey," a stocky muscular guy chimed in. "And you're in my room."

"That explains the smell," she muttered under her breath, eliciting smirks from a couple of them.

"Are you okay?" asked a thin brown-haired guy who sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "Because you don't look so good."

"Oh, now that's a great thing to say to the girl," scoffed a redhead who had a mischievous look about him. He gave her a wink. "_I_ think she looks great."

Bianca laughed in spite of herself. "No, no, I got what he meant. I'm sure I don't look good. And I think I've got a broken leg. Can somebody take me to a doctor?" she requested sleepily.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can take care of you," the first guy to speak said. He sat down next to her.

"That's Matthew," the brunette gestured. "He's studying to be a doctor. He'll fix you right up."

"Whoa. _He's_ going to cast my leg? You're not going to take me to someone who knows what he's doing?" Bianca sat up straight, then moaned when she remembered how much it hurt to sit up and sunk back onto the soft gray bed sheets.

"Just lay down," Matt spoke in a calm voice. "I've done this a million times - these clowns break limbs all the time." He nodded his head towards the pack of men. One of them lifted up a bandaged wrist in confirmation.

"We can call an ambulance to come and get you, if that's what you want," Dave offered, "but the nearest hospital is pretty damn far from here."

Bianca had a vision of a nice clean hospital - then she remembered that she was running away from home, and decided not to risk going to the hospital and giving out all her personal information. There was probably a search going on, and God knows what her stepmother, having proven herself capable of hideous things, would do if she found here there helpless. "No, no, I trust you," she said hastily to Matt.

"Alright, I'll go get some supplies." Matt left the room, and the others all crowded around her, throwing hands in her direction, introducing themselves. She weakly shook their hands and heard a lot of names that she knew she wouldn't remember.

Matt reentered, arms full of bandages and various supplies. Upon inspecting it, he told her it was probably just a very severe bruise, but that he would treat it as if it was broken just in case. When he started to wrap her leg up against a split, Bianca grabbed the hand nearest to her, which happened to belong to Brian, the brown-haired boy sitting with her. She clutched his hand tightly and squeezed her eyes closed. When the leg was done, Matt cleaned and bandaged her many cuts, removing bits of broken glass from some, and gave her some pain medicine to swallow. As Matt was finishing, Bianca realized she was still holding Brian's hand in a death grip and looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry if I held it too hard."

"Oh, I don't think you broke too many bones," he joked, smiling warmly and then introducing himself again. This time, the name stuck in Bianca's mind.

"You're all done, kid," Matt told her.

"Thanks." All of a sudden, Bianca realized that she was ravenously hungry. "If it's not too much trouble… can I have something to eat?"

"Oh, sure. You want us to bring something up to you?"

"Actually, I'm feeling alright. I'll come down to the kitchen with you," Bianca said. Brian and Dave each offered her a hand. They helped her stand, then let her drape her arms over their shoulders as she hobbled down the stairs. Bianca couldn't help but smile as they descended the curved staircase. The small wooden house was warm, bright, and a little worn. It seemed as tall as it was wide. Unlike the formulaic nature of her home, there seemed to be rooms floating in the most random places as the staircase branched off in various directions.

They eventually made their way into the kitchen, a sun-bathed and slightly untidy room with a few empty coffee cups and stacks of papers here and there, and a small pile of unwashed dishes in the sink. Bianca plopped down at the large round kitchen table and stared out the window at trees soaked in the light of the setting sun. All of the boys, who had gradually scattered during Bianca's medical treatment, slowly filtered into the room. Most of them began to cook, one chopping vegetables, one frying ground beef in a skillet, another boiling an enormous pot of spaghetti. Dave popped a CD in the player sitting on the counter and funky classic rock music wove its way through the other noises of the room. A few of the guys took swigs from bottles of beer and someone offered one to Bianca, which she hastily turned down in favor of water. Those who weren't cooking sat close to Bianca and asked her questions – who was she? Where was she from? How did she get to be so hot? This was her personal favorite, asked by none other than the self-assured redhead named Codey. Bianca was amazed that unlike stares from the boys back home, which made her roll her eyes in annoyance, Codey's frequent and overexaggerated flirtation just made her laugh. By the time a vat of spaghetti and meat sauce, a large bowl of salad accompanied by a bottle of Ranch dressing, and eight plates, forks, and knives were on the table, they had gotten to asking how she came to crash her car in the forest. They filled their plates as she narrated, gaping at her when she got to certain dramatic moments, transfixed by the sound of her honey-sweet voice.

"God, that's awful!" Brian shook his head when she finished. "How could your own stepmom do that?"

"I don't know," Bianca shrugged. "I guess… she must have been really jealous of me for a long time. I sort of realized it, I just didn't know it would get this far." She shivered. After a pause, she looked around the table. "Thank you so much for helping me out, though." The boys all assured her that it was no trouble at all.

"Would it be alright if I spent the night here? I don't know where else to go." Bianca pleaded.

"Sure. In fact, if you need a place to stay for a while…" Jake, a confident Latino boy sitting across from her spoke, looking at the others for approval, "I'm sure we could make some space here for you." They nodded and agreed.

The young men were either extremely easygoing, lustful, or, for all she knew, serial killers looking for their next victim. Bianca decided to take a gamble; at this point, she really couldn't afford to turn down these seemingly generous people. Once Bianca thanked them and accepted their offer, Dave, who seemed to be the leader, began to lay down the rules of the house. "We all help pay for the bills, and we all pitch in when it comes to housework. If you want to stay here, you'll have to help cook, clean, garden, and everything. Is that cool?"

Bianca nodded. "Yeah – sure. That's cool."

"Then welcome to our house, sister," Trevor smiled, giving her a pat on the back.

Midway through the meal, at Bianca's request, they launched into a lengthy discussion about their unusual way of living that lasted far past the emptying of their plates. After Matt and a short, younger guy named Eddie took their turn washing the dishes, the group proceeded into the great room, Dave hoisting Bianca up and carrying her over to a worn, comfortable couch. Together they relayed their life story to her:

Dave and Eddie were brothers. Their father had built the house when the brothers were small children, and when their parents had been killed in a car accident a few years ago, they had kept their home. It was too big for just the two of them, so when Dave started attending a local college, he decided to take in some friends he made there. Many of the seven of them came from broken or neglectful homes and various tragic situations, but found refuge in this group. They became a family, Dave explained. Bianca smiled. She loved their solidarity, and she enjoyed hearing others' stories. She realized that was strangely refreshing to be in a situation that wasn't all about her.

Eventually the order of the group broke down. More beers were opened. Trevor pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket, and he, Dave, Corey, and Eddie gathered around a coffee table, brought cheap plastic chips out of the closet, and started a game of poker. Matt retreated to his room and returned with a biology textbook and a thick stack of notes and began to study. Jake pulled a worn copy of _Hamlet_ off of the bookshelf and settled into an easy chair to read. Brian grabbed an acoustic guitar out of the corner of the room and sat in front of the glowing fireplace, casually strumming. Bianca just lay on the couch taking it all in, beneath a warm blanket Trevor had tossed her way, sipping a mug of hot chocolate Eddie had cooked up for her, until she drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Bianca was awoken the next morning by the clanking of pans and the slow but noisy commotion of seven drowsy young men in the kitchen. Always a morning person, she immediately dragged herself off of the couch and into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes as she stepped into the bright, crowded room.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Corey greeted her.

"Help yourself to some coffee," Dave gestured towards a half-full coffee pot on the counter next to the sink.

Thanking him, Bianca shuffled to the coffeemaker, edging her way past Brian and Jake, who were busily cooking. She grabbed a clean mug and filled it with coffee. "What are you guys making?" she asked the two, wrapping her fingers around the mug and leisurely leaning back against the counter.

"Bacon and eggs. Want to lend us a hand?" Brian asked.

"Um… sure." Bianca had never cooked before, but thought, how hard could it be to fry an egg?

"You might want to get this out of the way," Brian teased, yanking gently on her nearly waist-length hair that, after two mornings without a shower or straightening iron, was beginning to adopt an unruly appearance, chunks of it sticking out every which way. Embarrased about her unsightly mane, she swept it behind her and scrunched it into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. "I'm ready now," she informed him.

"Alright, grab a spatula and start flipping the eggs," Brian spoke nonchalantly, turning sizzling bacon over in a nearby pan.

"Spatula… spatula…" Bianca muttered under her breath, staring at the can of kitchen utensils, utterly lost.

Brian noticed the blank look on her face. Incredulously, he said, "You don't know what a spatula is? Where have you been living, under a rock?"

Bianca could feel color creeping into her cheeks. She wasn't used to not knowing things. "My stepmother did all of the cooking back home," she answered flippantly.

Brian raised an eyebrow quizzically, then chuckled. "Alright, we'll start from the beginning. The spatula's that flat one."

Bianca grabbed it and held the handle so that the spatula was upside down, then looked up at Brian, ready for instruction.

Clenching his jaw shut so that he didn't burst out laughing, he turned the spatula over in her hand.

"Oh, right," Bianca spluttered. Flustered, she hastily tried to make herself seem very busy. She glared at the four eggs in the skillet, as if with sheer intensity of her gaze she could move them. Brian stared at her, an amused half-smile lingering on his face.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Right. Now, the eggs have been in the skillet for a while, and they're ready to be flipped over. Just slide the spatula under an egg, lift it up, turn it over, and let it drop back into the pan upside-down." He demonstrated the motions as he spoke, then he let her give it a try.

Bianca mutilated the first egg that she tried to flip, possibly worse than anyone has ever mutilated an egg. She broke the yoke and managed to fold the egg over on itself. Brian stood patiently by her side as she turned three perfectly good eggs into congealed, defeated lumps. Bianca gave a frustrated sigh. "I can't even make eggs right. I'm a failure!" she huffed.

"Don't worry about it. The first time I tried to use this stove, I ended up in the hospital."

"You did not!" she laughed.

"He did," Jake confirmed with a nod. "He put his hand down on a burner. It was really ugly."

"Oh my God!"

"I thought I had turned on the back burner, but I had actually turned on the front one. I leaned on the front burner. Not a very smart thing to do," he reflected, showing her some faint scars on the palm of his hand.

"That's terrible!" Bianca commiserated, her big eyes filling with pity.

"It's nothing," Brian waved carelessly. "Now why don't you sit down and let us fix you some breakfast. I'll teach you how to cook some other time." Bianca followed his suggestion, somewhat ashamed of herself. She hated looking foolish.

Since it was a warm, sunny Saturday, many of the guys headed outside to do gardening mid-morning. Bianca wandered after them, more out of curiosity than a willingness to work. Her family hired a landscaping service, so she had never actually seen gardening up close before. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure what gardening entailed. The weather was sunny and beautiful, though, so Bianca was glad to be outdoors. She smiled as the sun hit her face, stripping off her long-sleeved shirt, letting the sun heat her bare arms and shoulders and upper back exposed by the tank she had on underneath.

She instantly regretted her decision to follow them outdoors when Dave placed a funny-looking object in her hand, politely urged her to work on the vegetable garden, and walked off. It consisted of a handle and a long metal rod that was sort of forked at the end.

"What on earth is this?" she turned and demanded of the nearby Brian, brandishing the tool in the air.

"You use it to pull weeds out," he answered. "How much experience do you have with gardening?"

"About as much as cooking," Bianca sighed.

Brian laughed. "You're going to need some help. Follow me, I'll show you what to do. And stop waving that thing around before you stab me with it."

"Right," Bianca blushed, dropping her arm to her side. She followed Brian as he knelt down at the edge of the garden. She watched intently as he wedged the pointed end of a similar tool into the dirt at the base of a weed, forcing the weed to pop up above the surface. Brian then paused, to watch her try.

Bianca slowly lowered herself to the ground, so as not to upset her injured leg. She wrinkled her nose as the knees of her favorite jeans squished into the muddy ground. She shoved the tool into the ground, and worked it around fervently, effectively mangling the weed.

"You'll get it," he assured her. He stood and watched as she poked the rod into the ground again, then after a bit of work, gave up and yanked the weed out using her hand. Suddenly she let out a blood-curdling scream and jumped back, throwing the tool up into the air.

"What's wrong?" he shouted, rushing to her side. She pointed down in the small hole, where a fat white insect was wiggling around.

Brian started laughing. "That's just a grub," he informed her. "It won't hurt you." He retrieved the tool from halfway across the garden, placed it back in her hand, and told her to keep digging. Shaken from her terrifying encounter with the revolting little creature, Bianca sat down on a grassy patch near the garden for a few moments to collect herself. She watched as Brian disappeared into the shed and emerged minutes later with a lawnmower. Pulling his shirt off and throwing it on the porch, he then began to mow in horizontal swipes across the lawn. Bianca let her brain take a vacation for a few minutes and watched him work, noting that she didn't much mind looking at Brian without his shirt. It wasn't until he caught her gaze and waved at her that she came back down to earth and realized, with a frown, that she herself had work to do.

Two hours later, the garden was free of weeds, and Bianca was sweaty, red-faced, and on the verge of tears. Her arms were sore from the exertion, and she noticed that her previously pure white skin was marked with pink patches.

Corey sauntered over to her. "Good job, princess," he congratulated her with a sincere smile. He gave her a hearty pat on the back.

Bianca winced. "Ouch!" she yelped.

Seeing the white print his hand had made on her severely sunburnt skin, he immediately apologized. Eyeing her upper half critically, he commented, "Wow, you are really sunburnt. Let me take you inside; I've got some aloe you can use. I have pale skin too, so I get burnt all the time," he explained. Placing his hand on her lower back, he gently led her into the house.

Once inside, they ran into Eddie, who, since he was closest to her in size, offered her an old T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to change into. He then showed Bianca to the bathroom. Gratefully, she closed the door, removed her sweaty, dirty clothing, and let a torrent of cool water cascade over her head. Disheartened, she realized that staying with these boys would be no walk in the park. She already missed living in her parents' house. She wasn't ready to live on her own like this; she had too much to learn. Later, as she rubbed aloe lotion into her hot pink arms, mourning the loss of her delicate, milky complexion, she wondered what on earth she had gotten herself into.


	2. Beauty

_Thanks to all for the reviews. I'm glad to know that you all are enjoying my story :)._

The morning after the fight, Regina woke with a start at 3:41 in the morning. Immediately the weight of what she had done settled on her shoulders, prohibiting her from falling back asleep. She turned on an ornate lamp in the empty bedroom and lifted her romance novel from her bedside table. However, she found that she was unable to concentrate on the characters' debauchery; her mind kept drifting back to her own current scandal. She relived the night over and over in her head and found that her overwhelming emotion was not guilt, worry, or concern, but relief. The thought of living even one day without jealousy gnawing at her stomach was invigorating.

There were only two small catches, she finally concluded. Bianca could come back at any time, and she would just have to find some other way to deal with the brat. The other was the matter of John. He wouldn't be happy when he came home and his daughter was missing. Regina carefully concocted a plan of action.

At 6:30 in the morning, the time she usually woke up on Fridays, she called John on his cell phone. He answered with a sleepy "Hello?"

Pretending to be in a panic, Regina started with, "John, it's me. Bianca's gone!"

"Gone?" he shouted. "What do you mean, she's gone?"

"I mean, I woke up this morning, and she wasn't in her bed. She must have snuck out during the night. I guess she took her car; it's gone too." She was sure her voice sounded frantic enough to be convincing.

"I'm coming home right away," John decided.

"Good, honey. I don't know how to handle this alone. Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Call the police."

"Okay, I can do that."

"I'll get the first flight home I can." John quickly hung up the phone.

Regina's face contorted into a devious smile. Bianca was gone, and John was coming home early. This was turning out to be a very good week indeed.

…

Dinner that night consisted of grilled hamburgers, salad, and macaroni and cheese. After weeding the garden in the morning, and spending the afternoon helping Jake and Dave move furniture to set up a makeshift bedroom in a second-floor den area, Bianca was ravenously hungry. She devoured two burgers and third helpings of everything else.

"Looks like you got some sun," commented Trevor, who she had hardly seen all day. "Does it hurt?"

She nodded, answering, "Like hell."

"You'll get used to the sun," he laughed. "I used to be as pale as you, and look how tan I am now."

"You're still pale," Jake ribbed him. "But that might change if you did something other than playing Final Fantasy all day."

"Hey, that is a great game," Trevor defended himself. "At least I don't read chemistry books all day, like Matt."

They all started in on Matt. "See, this is what you get around here if you're not a lazy bum," he told Bianca, who giggled.

"Oh come on. We're not lazy, we're just not nerds like you," Dave told him.

"What do you do?" someone asked Bianca. "You aren't a premed major like him, are you?"

"I'm just a junior in high school. But I want to be an art major in college," she told them proudly.

"Cool," Codey said. "So can you like draw pictures of us?"

Bianca laughed. "Yeah, I can draw portraits. I really like to paint though."

"We don't really have any paints or anything here," Dave apologized. "At least, not the kind you'd want. We're not really art people. It's not manly enough," he joked.

"Oh, that's all right. I could use a break, to tell you the truth. I've been doing a ton of painting lately and I'm sort of getting sick of it," Bianca lied with a polite smile on her face.

"Maybe we can get you some art supplies next time we're in town," Brian offered casually.

"Oh, whatever," Bianca replied just as coolly, though her heart gave a little leap at the thought of painting again.

"So… you're a high school chick, huh? High school chicks are my favorite." Corey wiggled his eyebrows in such a preposterous fashion that Bianca burst out laughing in spite of herself.

"Yes, because Corey likes all of his conquests to be highly illegal," Matt informed her.

"Conquests?" Corey repeated, screwing his face up in confusion.

"Wins, victories," Jake translated, adding sarcastically, "not that any of the rest of us would view robbing the cradle as a victory."

"Only Corey would," Dave nodded in agreement. "Girls his own age reject him. Most of his girlfriends are like twelve."

This mocking set the tone for the rest of the hour, which was filled with conversations, jokes, rants, debates, and everything in between. The talk was easy and flowing, sometimes vulgar, and always entertaining to Bianca. She felt like the queen of the group. The men were just so welcoming to her, so happy to have her around. It was a warmth she had never before experienced. Her father had always loved her, but she had always gotten the impression that she was nothing more than a major inconvenience to her stepmother. Now that she had been forced out of her home by her stepmother and no one had made an effort to find her, as far as she knew, she questioned everything. How much did her father really love her? How much did her stepmother secretly hate her?

Suddenly the room felt cold and Bianca was filled with loneliness. Through the rest of dinner, though distracted, she put on a smile and participated in the conversation so no one would notice that something was wrong. If there was anything she had learned in her old life, it was how to be stoic. Beauty involved not just appearance but demeanor, and Bianca figured that the easiest way to drive everyone she knew away was to become a sobbing, blubbering mess. Bianca never allowed her friends to see her looking less than perfect, and she wasn't about to allow her seven male housemates to see her in that light either.

After dinner and dishwashing, they all migrated into their comfortable great room for what was now appearing to be a nightly routine. Card games were played, books were read, homework was completed, arms were wrestled, and a guitar was skillfully played by Brian. Though Bianca had sat down beside Jake with a book he lent her, her attention waned, and soon her whole mind became occupied with the sound of the music. She had always loved nearly any kind of music and, an artist herself, appreciated its ability to express what words could not. She sat on the couch across from him, inconspicuously peeking over the top of her open book at Brian's hands as they caressed the steel strings. He was too engrossed in the music he was creating to notice. Every once in a while, he would glance up and catch her eye, and she would blush and turn her attention back down to the book so quickly that she was unaware of his lips twisting into a curious smile.

Hours later, as Bianca had drifted into a hazy half-sleep, she registered the lack of music. Opening her eyes wider, she saw that only Brian and Jake remained in the room. "What…" she mumbled incoherently.

Jake, still sitting beside her, chuckled. "It's late. You should get to bed." He extended a hand, which Bianca gratefully grasped. Swinging her legs off the couch and planting her feet on the ground, she allowed herself to be pulled upward by Jake's steady strength. He gave her a brisk pat on the back, then followed Brian's lead out of the great room and up the stairs. They stopped on the second landing, where between Jake and Brian's rooms sat the window seat, coffee table, and pull-out couch Bianca could now call her own.

Jake waved a quick good-night and departed, but Brian found a spare pillow and a set of sheets in the linen closet and proceeded to help Bianca assemble the bed. Gratefully, she helped remove the cushions from the couch, made a valiant effort to unfold the couch until it snapped closed carrying her with it and she feebly asked a laughing Brian to help, then tucked in the sheets.

Once they were finished, Bianca warily eyed the large panes of glass on one side of the room. "It's like being in a fishbowl," she said tentatively. "I didn't notice in the daylight, but this is a little creepy."

Brian smiled down at her. "Well if you get too scared during the night, you're welcome to wake me up," he offered.

"Really?" she asked, amazed at his generosity.

"Yeah. Of course, if I hear a noise in my room, I might thing you're a burglar and try to kill you. So make sure you announce yourself well." He gave her a soft punch on the arm.

"I'll make sure to do that," Bianca giggled. They said their goodnights, and her glance lingered on his face for a few seconds longer.

Brian's eyes weren't plain brown, Bianca realized. Bathed in moonlight as his face was, they much resembled milk chocolate.

…

As Regina sat leisurely in front of the television, she heard the squealing of car tires. She snapped up and grabbed the phone just as John flew through the front entrance in a blind panic, throwing the door shut behind him.

"What's going on? Have you called the police? Have you heard anything?" he shouted.

Regina tried her very best to look troubled and concerned. "I haven't heard anything! I did call the police, and they said they would begin looking."

"Well, I'm going to call again!" John ripped the phone out of her hand, dialed a number, and pressed the phone up to his ear. After a long conversation with lots of distressed yelling on his end, he hung up and told her, "They haven't found anything, but they're putting out a missing person's report."

John proceeded to jog upstairs to his daughter's room, sift through all of her belongings until he found a school directory, and called everyone he knew to be even an acquaintance of Bianca, asking if anyone had seen her. No one had. He proceeded to search all of her favorite spots in the town. His quest was fruitless, but he did manage to get out word that Bianca was missing and that anyone with any news as to her whereabouts should call him immediately.

Regina sat by the window, waiting for him to come home. At last, John slunk back, defeated, and sunk into the nearest living room chair, burying his face in his hands. "I can't believe my baby is gone," he moaned.

"Oh, John, I'm sure we will find her," Regina spoke softly, masking her true delight, and put her arms around him. "I'm sure we will get through this if we rely on each other."

John looked at her, miserable, then patted the arm of the chair. She sat down on it and let him put his arms around her waist, leaning his head against her and shaking with silent sobs. Finally, Regina was in his arms rather than Bianca. Wife and husband were together, united by tragedy. All, in her eyes, was right with the world.

…

As time went on, despite her constant urge to protest and a lingering ache in her muscles, Bianca grew more and more accustomed to the chores she was doing. By the end of her first week there, she succeeded in making a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese and once again attempted to fry eggs. It took seven eggs and two triggers of the smoke detectors before an edible egg appeared, but she accomplished it nonetheless. She learned how to do laundry, clean the house, and tend the garden. In spite of all of her previous reservations towards housework, she found that maintaining her living space gave her a sense of accomplishment. Each time she ate a meal she had cooked, wore an article of clothing she had washed, or sampled a vegetable from the garden she helped nourish, she was filled with pride.

She settled into a comfortable routine of chores and hearty meals and social time. All day, she would look forward to the end, where she could listen to Brian's music. Eventually she overcame her initial shyness and began to ask him questions about his music until one day, he gestured invitingly toward the guitar.

"I can't do that!" she scoffed, shaking her head vehemently. Her hair bounced energetically; it was now a tangled curly mop thanks to lack of careful maintenance and the 89 cent shampoo the guys purchased to save money, much to Bianca's disdain.

"I'll show you how." With a mischievous smile, Brian walked over to her and placed the guitar against her body. The large wooden instrument felt awkward in her arms but bore the pleasant scent of pine. He sat down right beside her, and as he leaned close so his instructions could be heard, his warm breath tickled the back of her neck. Large, steady hands covered her own and guided them to the correct strings, and she giggled with delight every time her fingernails stroked out a proper chord. Though the tone was a little muted and odd-sounding at times, Brian nodded encouragingly each time she looked at him for approval.

This continued until their ears picked up a thread of conversation from the poker table: Corey's proposal of a party.

"Dude, we definitely should do it," Trevor urged. "The cops would never find us here, and there's no one around to tell us we're being too loud. It could go all night. It would be epic," he finished solemnly, initiating a smirk from Jake.

"And think about the chicks, man," Corey reminded. "We could get so many girls here with enough cheap beer. Maybe even Trevor could finally get a woman."

Trevor glared at him. "That's not cool, man. I'm on your side, remember?"

"Is that really all you guys think about – girls and beer?" scholarly Jake scoffed.

"Oh yeah. Life is short. I want to know that when I die, I will have scored with as many women as possible," Corey announced triumphantly. Then as an afterthought, added, "Sorry, Bianca."

"Corey, you don't pick up women. You pick up cheap hoes," Brian offered, also following up with an apology to Bianca. His comment elicited peals of laughter from most of the room's occupants.

Corey shook his head in mock sadness. "How can you say that about my girls? Come on. That redhead last week…"

"How can you possibly defend the redhead? When you brought her in here, even though I was clearly kidding, when I yelled, 'Take your top off,' she actually did," Dave reminded Corey. To remind everyone of this experience, in a rare display of silliness, Matt did an excellent imitation of her squeaky voice and yanked his t-shirt over his head.

Bianca could scarcely breath, she was laughing so hard. She had never been privileged enough (or perhaps cursed enough) to be around a group of guys being themselves, rather than trying to impress her, and it was an eye-opening experience.

"Well I think we should do it," Dave finally said after the noise subsided. "Trevor's right, it would be the perfect place for a party. Plus, it's college. Carpe Diem and all."

The group came to the consensus that it was time for a massive party to be thrown at their house. They set a date, began inviting everyone they knew, and started stocking up on appetizers and beer.

Bianca's own party preparation, she realized, would have to include some much-needed primping. For Bianca, parties had always been a chance to dress up and flaunt her beauty. But as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror for an appraisal, she realized she was quite short of beauty this time. Her appearance had drastically transformed during her time with the guys. Thanks to the hefty portions of food she had been eating, rather than the low-calorie vegetarian meals Regina had obsessively prepared, Bianca's once willowy figure was growing rather curvy. Since all she had been wearing for the past couple of months were baggy t-shirts and basketball shorts handed down from her male companions and the products of a very brief Wal-Mart trip, she hadn't felt her waistbands tighten. Apparently they had. Staring at her unclothed figure in the mirror, she was very disturbed. She was "one of the guys" around the house, but at a party, with loads of new males, she had been looking forward to impressing them. No guy was going to flirt with her, the way she looked now.

And that hair. She thought she very much resembled a Lord of the Rings character – which did not seem like a flattering look for a woman. It was always sweaty and dirty as she worked outside, and even with several washings, there was no way she could make it sleek and shiny. Her once fair white skin was golden-brown after the sun's continuous abuse. Faded sunburns gave way to a tan that completely ruined her complexion. Her nose and cheeks seemed permanently red, and in an all-male household, there was no makeup to cover it up. With a long sigh, Bianca resigned herself to the fact that she would have to hide in a corner all night to avoid being seen with wild hair and ugly boy's clothing.

When she was practicing guitar with Brian later that night, she kept placing her fingers in the wrong place and making bizarre unmusical noises. With a frustrated sigh, she thrust the guitar into his hands and announced, "Everything beautiful is gone from my life. I look ugly and I can only make ugly things."

Brian looked at her quizzically. "What are you talking about? You look fine to me. And guitar takes work, so don't get frustrated."

"You're wrong," Bianca huffed, crossing her arms. Not even Brian's pleasant demeanor could console her today.

He pondered for a moment. "Okay, I have an idea. We're taking a day off this weekend."

"But there are things to do! The party's in a couple weeks!"

"Nope, we're going out," Brian told her firmly. "We'll tell the guys we're going on a beer run, if it makes you feel better."

Bianca conceded, and went straight to bed, making sure she didn't pass a mirror on the way for fear of becoming more depressed.

…

Regina and John sat in their living room late at night. The TV droned softly, and the lone lamp cast sharp shadows on the walls. John stared absentmindedly at a book, and Regina stared at him. John had been distracted for the past couple of months, ever since Bianca had left. The girl was not truly gone from their lives. John was convinced that she was alive somewhere, and until he brought her back, there would still be a wall between them.

Regina disappeared to their bedroom for a few minutes, and descended once again in her most alluring attire. "Come to bed," she purred, standing before him.

John glanced up at her, disinterested, then back down at his book. "Sure, honey. I'll be up in a little while."

Disappointed, Regina sulked back up the stairs. She huffed as she flung herself onto the bed. She knew John would doze off in that chair. If he came up at all, it wouldn't be for hours, and Regina would be fast asleep already. Even if she was awake, it wouldn't matter. John was always distracted. That horrible little girl was always on his mind. He spent every moment he wasn't at work driving around searching for her, and every moment at night plotting out where to look next. Regina spent most of her days driving out to shop or going out to restaurants under the pretense that she was looking for Bianca. It was a horrible life, and she wanted John back.

Regina knew that the only thing that would solve this predicament was if she herself did go looking for Bianca – and found a body.

…

On Saturday at the crack of dawn, Bianca was awoken by Brian's hands pushing down on her bed repeatedly. As she bounced up and down, she sat bolt upright and, exasperated, demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We're going on a trip, remember?" Brian answered.

Bianca decided not to complain any longer when she noted his expression of boyish excitement. "You look like a little kid who just got a new puppy," she observed.

"Wait until you see where I'm taking you. Then you'll understand," he replied cryptically.

After hastily getting ready, she allowed Brian to drag her outside by the hand so they could begin their journey. The drive down the same winding coastal road that had been so treacherous for Bianca during the night was refreshing during the day. Bianca found that once they were coasting over the sun-speckled highway, the overwhelming fear that Brian's clunky, thousand-year-old station wagon would fall to pieces on a sharp turn was quelled. Brian's optimistic attitude about their day of relaxation was contagious even to the composed Bianca. When he rolled the windows down, she had protested, but when Brian refused to put them back up (for fear that using the air conditioner might push his poor vehicle to its limit), she realized that the cold breeze rushing into the car actually felt good on her face.

However, when Brian decided that it was time to sing along to the radio, Bianca absolutely could not bring herself down to his level. Flipping through the stations, his eyes lit up when he landed on an Oldies channel. After belting out a few bars along with Diana Ross in a screechy falsetto, Brian shouted, "Come on! This is a classic!"

Bianca looked at him like he had grown antlers out the top of his head. "Are you crazy? Stop it!" she cried, scandalized.

Brian, wild-eyed with enthusiasm, paid no attention. After taking a huge exaggerated breath, he warbled the words to the chorus at the top of his lungs. He began to actually shake his upper body around erratically, in what she supposed was supposed to resemble dancing. Bianca shook her head in disbelief. Who was this maniac and why had she agreed to go out in public with him?

Brian, however, was not rattled by Bianca's show of disapproval. He punched her on the arm playfully and even reached a hand out and shook her shoulders for a moment, getting her to move.

Laughing tentatively, Bianca could no longer stop a grin from exploding across her face in spite of herself. Caught up in the spirit of the moment, she began to join in on the familiar chorus, but still looked at him like he was crazy. With a whoop from Brian, she allowed her guard to drop and her voice to grow stronger until the end, where they held a horrendously out-of-tune note through the beginning of an advertisement for a car dealership. They promptly burst into laughter that dwindled down into a momentary silence, made awkward in Bianca's eyes by embarrassment. Had she actually sung in public? In front of a male?

The very loud and overly cheery voice of a woman introducing some beauty product caused Brian to instantly change the channel "Let me do that. You pay attention to the road," Bianca ordered him, pushing Brian's hand away from the stereo.

"I think you just wanted to touch me, and you didn't know how," Brian teased.

"Shut up," Bianca snapped, flustered. She noticed Brian's lips were tightly closed – to keep a snicker of his own from coming out? Haughtily, she pretended not to notice him and pressed the "Tune" button as channel after channel of commercials, hippie folk tunes, and loud rock bands blasted out the speakers.

"Ooo, stop here!" Brian shouted excitedly when she came across a particularly aggressive alternative rock band.

Bianca wrinkled her nose. "It's just a guy screaming over a bunch of loud noises. It sounds worse than when I play guitar."

"Oh, honey, nothing sounds worse than when you play guitar," Brian cooed in a saccharine voice that made Bianca slap his upper arm in frustration. He continued, "But I suppose you listen to great music. What are you chicks into these days, the Spice Girls?"

Bianca rolled her eyes. "You are so behind the times. Here, this is the kind of thing I like." She found a station playing a pop-punk song with a semi-angry female singer and began to mouth the words, move side to side, and snap her fingers to the beat.

Brian cringed. "I cannot believe you listen to that crap." After intense argument about what constituted bad music, the conversation degenerated into a radio war, each trying to find songs that were progressively more obnoxious. After Bianca finally found a song sung by a 90's boy band, Brian conceded that she had won. Shortly after, he announced that they had arrived. Bianca stopped cutting up and really looked out the window. "Where are we?" she asked in wonderment.

"Big Sur," he replied incredulously. "You've seriously never been here? How long have you lived in California?"

"My whole life. But we mostly stayed in my town. Sometimes we drove to San Francisco, but everywhere else, we flew. Even just to LA. My stepmother gets carsick," she explained.

"High maintenance woman," Brian remarked.

Brian pulled the car over to the side of the road. He led her through a field of the greenest grass Bianca had ever seen, before reaching a small precipice overlooking the ocean. The deep turquoise water caught the sun and reflected it at millions of ever-changing angles, making the ocean sparkle. It was the most spectacular view Bianca had ever seen; it took her breath away.

They spent hours walking through the region, climbing small hills to get a better view of the ocean, chasing each other through fields, and eventually sharing a picnic of food Brian had brought. After they finished eating, they sat side by side, their feet dangling over the edge of the dropoff, watching waves crash against the rocks below them.

They talked about everything. Brian finally got the chance to tell her his life story. "I grew up in Indiana," he began. "I had a friend who was from this area. She always showed me pictures of her old home, and I knew I wanted to live here someday. I started applying to every West coast college I could think of. I was reluctant to leave home though." He inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill his lungs before he continued. "My senior year of high school, my parents went through a nasty divorce. They fought all the time and they put me in the middle of it. I knew that whoever I chose to live with would gloat, and the other parent would never speak to me. So I decided to live with neither. I moved as far away as I could to get away from it all. At first I lived in a really crappy apartment out here, but it was worth it. My second semester, I met Jake in an English class, he introduced me to his crowd, and that's how I got here."

Bianca plucked a piece of grass out of the ground and twirled it around her fingers absentmindedly. "Well, at least you don't have a stepmother who tried to kill you," she reminded him.

"Yes, that is true," he chuckled. "Sorry, that's not really funny."

Bianca smiled and glanced sideways at him. "No, it's alright. I'm actually glad that something got me away from that house. I didn't realize how oppressive it was until I met you guys. I like my life so much more now." After a pause, she asked him, "Have you ever eaten tofu?"

Brian made a face. "No way. It sounds gross."

Bianca laughed, and looked back down at the blade of grass between her fingers. "Well that's all I ate. Vegetables and tofu. I really like meat, and I didn't even know it. And I really like doing housework. I must sound like I'm from the 1950's."

"No, I know what you mean. I love living with the guys. And you are definitely cooler than when you came here."

"How so?" she looked at him quizzically.

"You were a total snob," he answered.

"What?" she asked, with a laugh.

"You thought you were so much better than us," he continued. "That is, until you tried to cook an egg and you didn't know what a spatula was."

Bianca cringed and covered her eyes with her hand. "I must have looked so dumb to you."

"Well, yeah," Brian shrugged, eliciting a shocked "Hey!" and a smack on the arm from Bianca. He mollified her somewhat by saying, "We all think you're really cool now, though. And you look way better too." He gave her a little nudge with his elbow.

Bianca cracked up, half because Brian was not smooth at all, and half to hide the pleased smile that threatened to sneak onto her face. "What are you talking about?"

"When we first saw you, you looked so delicate. It was like if we touched you, you would break. But now, you look so… different. A good different, though," he added when she made a face. "Come on, why do you think Corey hits on you so much?"

"Because he's Corey?" she offered.

"That's probably right," Brian agreed with a laugh, "but that's not the only reason. You're hot. They all would hit on you, if they had the guts."

"I don't believe you," Bianca argued. "I was beautiful before. I had perfect skin, perfect hair, a perfect body. Now all of that is gone."

"But that's not really attractive," Brian persisted. "Guys don't want to date a doll. They want to date a living, breathing human being. That's what you are now. Plus, before, you were missing the most important thing."

"And what is that?" Bianca asked indignantly.

Brian's voice softened. "Now, you have a great personality. You're not afraid to crack a joke, or sing in the car. That's what is most important to me." Brian's face got very red, and he stuttered, "To guys. That's what's important to guys. Other guys."

Bianca half-smiled at Brian's fumbling.Staring out at the ocean to ponder what Brian had just told her, she once again noticed its glimmering beauty. After a moment, she remarked wistfully, "Thanks for bringing me here. This view is so amazing."

"Amazing enough to paint?" Brian gave her a knowing smile. Somehow he had guessed just how she felt. "You miss it, don't you. I can see it in your eyes. You really want to paint this scene."

Bianca shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I can remember this and try to recreate it." Even as she said it, she wondered longingly how much time would pass before she could get her hands on a brush again.

"You're lying to me," Brian accused, with a smile.

"What?" she asked with a sheepish laugh.

"You're dying to get your hands on a brush. It's killing you, having to sit here and look at this gorgeous view and not be able to turn it into art."

Bianca gave in and nodded truthfully. "I just feel this need to create. I can't explain."

"Oh, I understand," Brian said. When she looked at him skeptically, he explained, "I'm a guitarist, remember? I feel that same thing - I have to make music. I have to…" he trailed off, unable to explain why he needed music.

"You have to create something beautiful," Bianca finished. "Sometimes art is the only way to capture some of the most amazing things in this world."

"Exactly." They sat still, but for Bianca's hair blown by the gentle breeze, both looking perfectly forward. Bianca could hear his breathing, smell his scent, feel his presence.

Suddenly, Brian stood and announced in a commanding voice, "We're going to have to do something about this. Get up."

"What? Where are we going? Bianca asked, confused.

"You'll see," he replied.

Once again grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him, he led her to the car, and they sped off north. A few miles down the road, Brian pulled off onto an exit ramp and before she knew it, they were in the middle of a cute, wind-worn seaside town. Brian drove the streets, scanning the storefronts intently, until he slammed on the brakes and clumsily attempted to parallel park. After driving the car forwards and backwards about five times, he was satisfied and turned off the engine. Bianca, too preoccupied laughing at her friend's terrible maneuvering, didn't notice the sign on the front of the store until they were standing outside the car, right in front of it. "You brought me to an art supply store?" she gasped.

Brian grinned. "Hey, you need it, I can tell. Just consider it your repayment for having to put up with me on a daily basis."

Bianca wandered the aisles gushing about nearly every thing she saw. Brian patiently stood by as she babbled on at him, with an admiring grin on his face. She finally selected a small set of paints, a couple of brushes, a pad of paper, and, struck with sudden inspiration, a simple sewing kit. Brian's compliments had given her a small jolt of confidence, and with a devilish grin, she realized that though she did not have money to buy a fancy outfit, she would still be a knockout at this party they were throwing.

On the way home, she thanked Brian profusely for his thoughtful gesture. He shrugged and turned on the radio. But the atmosphere was not right, and he eventually switched the radio off so that the two could converse for the rest of the ride. Any shyness and inhibition had disappeared, and they found that they could go on for hours about everything and nothing in their lives.

Brian was surprisingly easy to talk to, Bianca was finding. He wasn't fixating on her beauty or trying to devise the best strategy to acquire her phone number. Instead, she was so fixated on their conversation that the whole world around her seemed to disappear. She forgot all about her malicious stepmother and neglectful father, relishing in her new life with Brian and the rest of the men. Brian wasn't afraid to be himself around her, and that had in turn coaxed her out of her shell and replaced her fear of social ostracization with the knowledge that no matter what, there would always be someone there. Seven someones, in her case.

…

During Regina's daily hunt for Bianca, she decided to pull off the highway into a small town that was reported to have many interesting furniture stores and clothing boutiques. As she exited a jewelry store after buying a fantastic necklace, she found so much more than she had been looking for. She found Bianca.

The slamming of a car door not far off had caught her attention. She

noticed a boy and a girl in shabby clothing walking towards the front of a store. The girl had the blackest hair Regina had ever seen and-

She staggered, losing her balance. She had the face of Bianca. Could that be her stepdaughter, with wild hair and tan skin, wearing an outfit she normally wouldn't be caught dead even jogging in? The two adolescents entered a building, giving Regina what she hoped would be ample time to devise a plan of action.

With a fiendish smile, Regina ran out to her sleek black car, started it up, and slowly drove the streets before finding an alley dark enough to hide her car from view, but close enough to the store she had seen that little monster enter to give her a prime view of the car that she and the scruffy-looking boy had stepped out of. When the two of them had meandered back out to the dilapidated vehicle and sped off, Regina waited a few seconds, then followed. It wouldn't look suspicious for a car to follow, at a reasonable distance, along one road, the only highway leading up the coast. At least she could see which town they departed towards, giving her a place to start her search.

Regina was shocked when, a while later, they slowed and pulled off of the road onto a winding dirt road. She continued driving towards her home. With a cackle, she thought, that's where she's been hiding? In the woods? No wonder the brat was a wreck. Well no matter; this was the end for her. No more hiding. Regina had discovered her, and it was only a matter of time before she found out how to rid the world of her.


	3. Poisoned!

In my editing, I've added another scene, at the beginning.

…

Bianca spent the next week painting, drawing, sewing, and creating artwork any time she could find a few spare minutes. No one could pry her new paintbrush from her fingers for anything. She sat outside continuously, creating trees, flowers, birds, and even likenesses of her friends, when they didn't realize that she was watching.

"Brian! Stand right there!" she called out during her painting session the morning of the party. Brian had ambled out of the garage, basketball in hand.

Brian looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding?"

"No, the light is perfect on your face; it would make a great picture." When Brian didn't respond, she said, "What? Stop looking at me like I'm crazy!"

"You _are_ crazy," he pointed out, shaking his head. "Want to play some basketball?"

"Are you trying to take me away from my artwork?" she accused.

"No, I just think it would do you good to have some physical activity and some actual human contact. I'm worried that you'll start talking to your paintbrush if you're left alone with it much longer."

Bianca laughed. "Maybe… just for a couple of minutes…"

"That's the spirit!" Brian grinned as she carefully laid down the brush and closed her set of watercolors.

He led her to their driveway, where the group split into two teams and fought to get the ball into the hoop. As Bianca had suspected, a couple of the boys were athletic and competitive, but most of them were uncoordinated and just plain goofy. If someone missed a shot, everyone else would harass that person to no end (in a good-natured manner, of course). There was a lot of rough-housing too, of course – the rules of the game of basketball or even common decency did not seem to apply. Bianca and Brian ended up guarding each other. She kept dragging him away from the action by the back of his shirt; he kept tickling her to make her lose her concentration. At one point, when Bianca was reaching for a loose ball, Brian actually scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. Bianca shrieked and pounded on his back with her fists until he let her down, and she consequently collapsed on the ground, laughing so hard she was practically in a fit of hysterics.

The game continued for quite some time, growing more competitive as their scores edged upwards. Bianca realized that, after years of hard work, most of them were quite strong, and she was in over her head. She was certainly not the athletic type, she concluded as she tried to jump up to catch a rebound, bounced into Brian, and fell down, landing on her knee and acquiring a nasty little scrape.

"Oh my gosh, you're bleeding! I'm so sorry," Brian exclaimed, squatting down next to where Bianca lay in a heap, wincing and clutching her leg.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"Come on, I'll help you get that cleaned up." Brian put his hands underneath her arms and lifted her up, then let her drape her arm over his shoulders as he helped her into the house.

He led her to the bathroom, where he hoisted her up on the counter and began to clean the wound up. Bianca cringed as he sprayed it with an anti-baterial solution.

"This will help it heal faster," he promised. He unwrapped a bandaid and smoothed the ends gently against her leg. His fingers were warm and firm as they pressed into her skin. She looked up, watching him calmly finish applying the band-aid, his face close to her knee. Then he looked up, his face close to hers. Very close.

Bianca's heart started beating a little faster. She could see a faint dusting of freckles across his tanned nose. His eyes, she realized, had little flecks of green in them. And his hair, it looked so soft. She wanted to run her fingers through it, but her head talked her hand into staying securely in her lap until she was quite sure of what was going on here.

He closed his eyes… he leaned forward…

"Hey, losers, when are you gonna get back in the game?" Jake's shout jilted them back into reality.

Brian jumped back just as Jake rounded the corner and appeared in the doorway. "Well, her knee's all fixed up, so…"

"Yeah, we should, um, get going…" Bianca slid down from the counter and stood awkwardly beside Brian. The two both began walking out and halted at the doorway, to avoid having to squeeze through the doorway at the same time.

"Uh… you go ahead," Brian gestured.

"No, you." Bianca practically shoved Brian through the doorway. He hustled out of there at practically a jog.

When Bianca saw the look on Jake's face, she muttered, "Oh, shut up."

"I wasn't interrupting something there, was I?" Jake whispered, raising his eyebrows in an amused fashion.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Bianca said haughtily, ignoring Jake's quiet chuckles as she sauntered out of the house. She was sure that it was comical to watch her try be huffy with a slight limp, but it did the trick. Jake didn't question her again.

The truth was, she didn't know. Was something happening? It had certainly felt like it, and this fact took her by surprise. She wasn't entirely sure she was happy about it. I mean, he was her friend and her housemate. She didn't want to risk that and lose her house and her friends, who were essentially her family. Plus, this was not exactly the romance she had always dreamed of. Bianca had always dreamed of finding her Prince Charming, someone handsome and charming and, well, perfect, who would come along and sweep her off of her feet. And while Brian wasn't unattractive, and he certainly had a boyish charm about him, he just… wasn't it. Though she loved him dearly as a friend, that was all it was going to be.

…

The fridge was stocked, the keg was tapped. The kitchen counter was heaped with food. Funky rock music played. The small house in the woods had not seen this much excitement since – well, back when Dave and Eddie's parents had hosted events. To those two, it was thrilling to see their home so full of life again. To the others, it was exciting enough just to have so many friends in one place. Everywhere people were milling, introducing, flirting. They overflowed out into the yard and onto the deck, where Matt and Trevor were flipping burgers on the grill and cutting up with their friends.

A group of the housemates stood at the base of the stairs, near the front door, greeting guests. Brian, Dave, and Jake were welcoming friends into the house with handshakes and hugs for their female guests. Corey was kissing cute girls on the cheeks and giving them directions to the nearest alcohol.

"This really is epic," Dave spoke once the party was booming. "I can't believe this many people fit into the house."

Corey opened his mouth to speak, but paused when he noticed that the two blonde girls he had his arms around were sneering enviously at the stairs. He turned his head, and the rest of the guys followed suit.

Down the stairs descended a voluptuous Bianca, complete with luxurious golden skin and thick wavy black hair. She had somehow managed to transform a t-shirt and a pair of old jeans Brian had passed on to her into a skirt and a halter top. "You really are an artist," Jake remarked. The rest of them could only nod in agreement.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Corey ditched the blonde girls, kissed her on the cheek, and said, "Start drinking."

Bianca cracked up. "You don't have a chance with me, Corey." She did, however, let her friends lead her to the kitchen, where Dave mixed her a drink.

"You deserve it. You've been busting your butt around her. Have a good time!" he urged, handing it to her. Bianca took a sip. It tasted good. If there was ever a time to drink, she reasoned, it was here, surrounded by the people she trusted. She began to meander through the room, introducing herself to people she didn't know, pausing to talk to her housemates, catching the attention of everyone she walked past.

…

Regina had waited until John was fast asleep in bed. When she was sure she heard him snore, she rolled out of her side and crept down to the living room. She reached underneath a couch cushion and pulled out the clothes she had stashed there earlier, proceeding to hastily change out of her pajamas into them. Pulling a small golden key out of her pocket, she unlocked a small drawer in the ornate secretary and felt around until she managed to lift the false bottom. With a sinister smile, she slipped a small bottle into her purse, locked the drawer, and headed outside. Her stealthy car hummed softly as it snuck down the street. John wouldn't notice a thing.

She found the seaside highway and twisted through the woods for some time before reaching the break in the highway where wretched Bianca and her male companion had disappeared just days before. She followed the bumpy gravel road for some time. Normally she would be horrified that her shiny car was gathering so much dirt, but she didn't even think of it now. Eager anticipation filled her mind; soon Bianca would be no more. Soon John would be hers. She was filled with such demented excitement that she could hardly contain herself.

Regina slowed the car as she reached the edge of some type of scene. It seemed to be some massive party or gathering – cars were parked everywhere, people were running around making noise, and in the center of it all stood a small glowing cottage. She turned off the motor and began to approach the house. With delight, she realized that this may turn out to be much easier than she had initially guessed. Most of the guests were so inebriated by this time of night that certainly they wouldn't notice she was out of place. She walked around to the back of the house and climbed onto an expansive deck.

"Have I met you?" some teenage boy slurred at Regina, startling her.

"I think we met earlier," she lied convincingly.

"Oh yeah, you know Dave, right?"

"Uh, sure. See you later," she answered, distracted. She stepped past him and opened the back door. People were crammed into the small, shabby house. Music blared. Completely unnoticed, she stood against a wall and scanned the crowd.

And there she was. Clutching a large red cup, a blonde boy telling her what appeared to be the most entertaining thing she had heard in her life, Bianca leaned against the kitchen counter. She touched his arm, set her cup down, and stumbled off.

This was too perfect. Regina walked calmly over to the counter and took the little green bottle out of her purse. Uncorking it, she shook a few drops into Bianca's drink, then turned and departed with a malicious laugh.

…

Guys flocked to Bianca, throwing out hands to introduce themselves. Many of them were quite handsome, she noticed. For the first time, she found that the presence of men made her flustered. However, the more she drank, the more her nerves calmed, until Dave had given her several refills, and she had no problem loudly chatting with anyone who approached her.

The room started to spin. She wasn't sure she liked this feeling. It became harder and harder to stand, so she started leaning on her friends. The room grew louder so she raised her voice. People became harder to focus on, and she wasn't quite sure what was happening.

Corey had his arm around her.

A dark-haired boy – Mark? Mike? Did it matter? – was talking to her. She was bored.

Dave and Trevor were standing on each side of her, introducing her to a friend, saying something about a stepmother.

Brian was talking to her. She couldn't understand what he was saying. It made her angry; she liked listening to Brian.

She was talking to a cute blonde boy.

She had to use the bathroom. She set her drink down.

She was drinking. She was talking to Brian.

She was sick. So sick. She leaned over the sink and Brian held her hair back. She was in pain. Her stomach – it burned. She was crying. Brian carried her up the stairs and placed her on his bed, then closed the door. She rolled around. So much pain. That was the last thing she remembered. The world grew quiet as she fell into a deep, peaceful, sleep.


	4. Awakening

Thanks for all of the fantastic reviews, I really appreciate them! Please keep reading and reviewing. I hope you like the rest of my story :).

…

Brian rubbed his eyes and sat up – then promptly lied back down. He groaned, clutching his throbbing head. Surveying the empty beer bottles and cans discarded on the floor and stacked on all flat surfaces, he remembered the party. Epic it had been. The last guests had not left until long after the sun came up.

He stumbled into the kitchen, swallowed two Advil, and downed a glass of water. A glance at the clock told him that it was mid-afternoon. The others were probably still asleep.

Why was he sleeping on the couch? That's right. Bianca hadn't been feeling well, so he'd let her sleep it off on his bed. The poor girl had drunk way too much, and he was pretty sure this would be her first hangover. He grabbed the Advil bottle, a glass of water, and a bagel, and headed up to his room.

He paused for a moment in the doorway. God, she was so beautiful. Her black hair fell in waves across his pillow. Her skin looked paler than usual though, nearly as pale as it had been when she'd first arrived at their home, which was a sign that she must have been quite sick.

"Bianca," he whispered softly, sitting down on the bed beside her. There was no response. With a smile, he gently touched her shoulder and whispered, "Wake up, sleeping beauty," in her ear. Nothing. He repeated her name, louder and louder. He shook her motionless body. No one slept this deeply. "Bianca! Wake up!" He was shouting her name so loud, right beside her, and still she did not stir.

His heart racing, Brian ran across the hall and pounded on the nearest door. A groggy Jake answered, quickly rising to action upon Brian's declaration, "There's something really wrong with Bianca! She won't wake up!"

Jake tried to rouse Bianca as well, in vain. They then ran through the house, alerting all of the men that there was trouble. Angry grumbling over being awoken turned into concerned panic when the men learned that their friend was ill. Matt inspected her, and determined that she did have a pulse, but announced that it was out of his hands. With much commotion, they carried Bianca with them out to Dave's van and drove off speedily and recklessly.

…

Bianca's eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she wondered what was going on. She appeared to be lying in a hospital bed, with some sort of tube hooked up to her arm.

She looked up, and the first thing her eyes rested upon was a doctor. Blonde, tall, and muscular, he was quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen. He looked like a movie star.

The doctor glanced at her and smiled. "You're awake!" he exclaimed, walking towards her.

"What are you talking about? How long have I been asleep?" She felt very weak; it was difficult to sqeeze the words out.

"You've been out for three days now," he informed her. "Darling, you were poisoned."

"Poisoned!" she yelped, straining her voice. Who could have – oh. In a moment of clarity, Bianca realized who had done this to her, and her anger boiled. Trying to calm herself, she muttered, "She got to me. That horrible woman."

"The police have been searching for your attacker," the doctor continued, paying her no heed.

"Didn't you hear me? I know who did it," Bianca called out. "It was my stepmother. They have to arrest her."

"Oh, they're looking for her," he answered, jotting something down on a clipboard.

"Looking for her?"

"We called your father to tell him that you were here. When he got back home, she had fled, which aroused suspicion," he explained. "The authorities are still searching for her."

"My father has been here?" Bianca asked, perking up.

"Every day. And so have a bunch of boys. Rowdy. They cause a scene every time they come in here," the doctor frowned.

Bianca chuckled. "Those are my friends," she told them. "I've been living with them."

"A girl like you? Living with those buffoons?" He checked something on the machine that was attached to her arm, then looked down at her disapprovingly, his strong brows furrowing. "Why?"

"Well, I was just living there temporarily. I was running away from my stepmother, and I happened to come across their house," she explained nonchalantly, hoping to keep this attractive doctor's attention.

"I see." He proceeded to check her lungs and heart; Bianca was sure it skipped a beat or two as he sat so close to her. "You seem well," he told her. "Not quite perfect yet, but you appear to be on the way to a full recovery. I'll check on you in a little while." After a glance at his watch, he added, "Your friends should be here soon; they always arrive as soon as visiting hours start and seem to be around all day, driving us all crazy." He left the room, giving Bianca a chance to get an approving glimpse of the back of him. It was, indeed, as perfect as the front.

Sure enough, about half an hour later, her entire household came bounding into the room.

"You really are awake!" Eddie exclaimed when they saw her sitting, flipping through a Cosmo magazine someone had thoughtfully left on her bedside table.

"I really am." Her face burst into a huge toothy smile. "Control yourselves, boys," she instructed, to no avail, as they all pushed to get to the front of the crowd to see their newly awakened friend. The story of the last few weeks unraveled through their excited, gleeful shouting, interrupted three different times by nurses yelling in vain to keep the noise down.

"Brian found you unconscious," Eddie offered. "He went into a complete panic, running around the house, telling us all to come help."

"You wouldn't wake up. I was afraid you were dead," Brian said.

"Then we rushed you to the hospital in my van," Dave told her, "and we all came in here. I guess we caused quite a commotion."

"I hear you cause quite a commotion every day," Bianca laughed.

"Well, what are we if not great riot-causers?" Corey shrugged.

"Great friends," she smiled. The resulting awkward silence was broken be the arrival of Bianca's father.

"Daddy!" she shrieked.

"Oh, Bianca!" John rushed to her side and threw his arms around her. The boys respectfully filed out of the room, leaving father and daughter alone.

"I am so sorry," he gushed. "I don't know how I could let anyone hurt you. I've been worried sick. To think I let that woman into our house," she scolded himself.

"It doesn't matter," Bianca buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"Yes it does," he cursed. "I am so, so sorry."

"Apology accepted," she gave in. "And I'm sorry I ran away. But I couldn't come back, you know, and I couldn't think of a way to tell you that your wife tried to kill me."

"I know." John sighed. "But you're safe, and that's all that matters. You're going to be fine."

They sat for a while, John telling her about their search for her and Bianca briefly describing the men who had let her take refuge at their home. "I know you wouldn't want me living with boys, but they are great people, really," she reasoned.

"Anyone who gives my daughter a good home is a friend to me," he told her gently. "Plus, you're going to college next year… you're practically on your own anyway. But I'm hoping you'll want to come back home until you do?" It was a question, not an order.

"Of course I will, Daddy," Bianca said, hugging him again. Over his shoulder, she saw Eddie's head peeking into the room. With a laugh, she motioned for them to reenter. Bianca formally introduced everyone to her father; to her delight, they were very polite and each gave his hand a firm shake. Over the next few days, there was a flurry of activity in her room. The day after she had woken was especially exciting; it was her eighteenth birthday, so her father brought a cake and candles, and her seven friends and her father and some of the hospital nursing staff that had been caring for her all sang, very much out of tune, but from the heart nonetheless.

The handsome doctor tended to her needs throughout her hospital stay. Bianca was surprised to discover that he wasn't too much older than her - he had just graduated from medical school a year ago. When she finally was getting ready to leave the hospital, he told her it was a pleasure to have met her – and asked her to dinner. Though her father gave her a disapproving look, she accepted.

"He's a bit old for you, don't you think?" he grumbled.

"Just a little. But daddy, he's just the kind of guy I always pictured being with," she explained. "Smart, handsome, kind. How could you want more than that for your daughter?"

He ruffled her hair. "I suppose you're right. He does seem like a nice man." Bending down and kissing the top of her head protectively, he muttered, "Even though I still don't think you should date until you're at least forty."

Bianca giggled. With her father's blessing, she wrote her phone

number on a scrap of paper and told the doctor to call her the next day. He grasped her hand and told her that he most certainly would.

The boys all arrived to wish her well as she was leaving the hospital. They gathered at John's minivan, and, weak as she was, Bianca stood to hug each of them good-bye. She thanked them all for being so kind to her when she needed them. Everyone said that they would miss her, in their own way. Corey, as always, tried to charm her, saying, "I'll miss seeing your beautiful face."

Bianca laughed and replied, "You know, I'll really miss you, Corey. I've never had any friends quite like you."

Finally, she came to Brian. She could not find the words to express how much she would miss him, so she threw her arms around him and buried her face into his neck. Nothing in the world had ever felt quite as good as this hug did now. Tears started to trickle out of her eyes. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I'm going to miss you so much," he said softly.

"Me too," she choked out. He loosened his arms a little, and looking around, she saw that the rest of the guys had politely begun to chatter with one another, so as to give Bianca and Brian a moment all to themselves.

"Oh, don't cry," he said, wiping her tears away with his thumb. "You can come visit us anytime, you know. And I can visit you. And maybe… you could possibly live with us next year, if you go to a local college?"

Bianca smiled. "Thanks. I would like that."

After a long pause, Brian said, "Well, I suppose you'd better head out of here."

"I guess so," she nodded.

Brian pulled her tight for one last hug, and roughly kissed her on the cheek. "Take care of yourself."

With tears streaming down her cheeks now, Bianca sniffled ungracefully and waved good-bye to her friends. Though she was happy to be reunited with her dad, it hurt when she realized that it may be a long time before she saw her closest friends again.


	5. Prince Charming

Bianca moved back into her father's house, which, in the absence of Regina, was a much less stifling place. Her town celebrated the return of their golden girl; everywhere she went, one of its affectionate inhabitants would throw their arms around Bianca, or give her a good hearty pat on the back. When they told her it was lovely to have her back, and stressed how worried they all were when she was missing, she responded earnestly that she was happy to see them.

Home life was… different. Bianca was used to doing all of her own cooking and cleaning, but her father wouldn't let her lift a finger. When she offered to prepare a nice dinner for her father, he just laughed at her. She insisted that she really did know how to cook, and he responded "I'm sure you do, honey," and kept on chuckling.

She didn't tell her father much about the time that they were apart. Some details, like the party, and the men's abundant flirtation, she thought, were better left out. In the beginning, she called the boys every day to check up. She missed them terribly. As time went on, though, the calls grew less frequent. School started, and between homework, college applications, and her burgeoning relationship, she just didn't have the time.

Her old girlfriends welcomed her back with an invitation to a sleepover. It was fun at first, in the cookie-baking stage, but once they all began to gossip about boys and beauty products, Bianca's mind wandered. She didn't subscribe to their belief that choosing the correct shade of lipstick was a matter of life-and-death; she didn't even wear makeup anymore. Instead, she thought of those long evenings she had spent basking in the warmth of the fireplace and watching sunlight disappear from the forest through large glass windows. She could almost feel Brian's guitar in her arms and hear the boys shouting and cursing at each other over the poker table. A giggle escaped her lips.

"What's so funny?" one of her friends demanded.

Bianca felt her cheeks growing warm. "Oh, I… um… I was thinking about a guy that I met," she blurted out, to change the subject. Unfortunately, this caused them all to shriek, lean closer to her, and start asking a bunch of questions. As she told the story, they all praised her highly for finding such a catch. Inwardly she sighed. Her male friends wouldn't have spent time grilling her about such things. More likely, they would have been poking fun at some meal she ruined, or calling her a sissy for her failure to operate some tool or equipment earlier that day. Strangely enough, Bianca found that she enjoyed teasing more than fawning. It was more real.

The doctor did call – and immediately set up a date. When he arrived at her house, in a slick red sports car, he told her she looked beautiful and offered her a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. He took her for a romantic dinner. He opened every door and even pulled her chair out for her at the restaurant. This first extremely successful date was followed by a string of them. Every time, Bianca felt like a princess. After all, she was on a date with a handsome gentleman, her veritable Prince Charming.

The best part of her new life, though, was that her art career was taking off. After taking a long break, she couldn't stop creating art. She painted all the time, and she even found a way to display, and hopefully sell, some of it. Her friend Ann had been coming over to study one day, and as Bianca waited, she had sat in the front lawn with an easle, painting the gorgeous sunset that was splashed across the sky that evening. Ann's mother, an art gallery owner, had noticed the painting-in-progress while dropping her daughter off and had started absolutely gushing. She requested to see more of Bianca's work. When Bianca retrieved a folder full of the paintings she had made during her stay in the woods, Ann's mother had promptly offered to frame the pictures and put them on display in her store.

Bianca was on a date with her fabulous boyfriend when she'd received an important call. He had taken her out for a candlelit dinner on a Friday night, to a fancy restaurant, and he looked at her disapprovingly when her cell phone began to ring.

"I know you think it's rude to talk at dinner, but it could be something important," she reasoned. Bianca flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Hi, Bianca, it's Ann," the caller informed her. "I just thought I'd let you know that my mom sold one of your paintings today."

"What?" Bianca shrieked. "Which one?"

"That beautiful one of Big Sur. The woman who bought it is an art afficionado, comes in all the time and buys the best pieces, regardless of price. She told me that your painting was gorgeous and that she can't wait to acquire more of your work. She reckons you'll be a star someday."

"Really? That's so great! Thank you so much."

"No problem."

Bianca hung up the phone and clutched it to her chest, a little squeal escaping.

Her date looked up from his plate and laughed. "What are you making so much noise about?"

"I sold a painting!" she yelped.

"Oh. That's nice," he said. He turned his attention back to his steak.

"Didn't you hear me? I sold my art!"

"Bianca," he said quietly, through clenched teeth, "people are staring."

"Let them stare!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't care! I'm a real artist now!"

He looked at her, clearly annoyed. "Will you please stop making so much noise? You're causing a scene."

Tears filled her eyes. Screwing them closed and willing herself to be strong, she calmly said, "Sure."

They ate the rest of their dinner without speaking one word to each other. On the silent car ride home, Bianca turned things over in her head. It was true, he was her Prince Charming. He was beautiful and perfect and he brought her romance and flowers and candles. But it wasn't enough; Bianca knew that now. How could she be with someone who didn't care about her art? Her art was everything to her - it was like he didn't value who she was. She wanted to find someone who loved her art, and who liked her to be herself, no matter how nutty or unruly it made her look.

A memory floated into Bianca's mind. She was in a different car, singing at the top of her lungs, her hair wildly whipping in the wind. And there was someone there beside her, dancing, singing, encouraging, coaxing her out of her shell. He had made her feel secure. He'd told her that she was beautiful, even when she hated her appearance the most, and best of all, he'd told her that he loved her personality.

Oh no. Why hadn't she seen this before? With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Bianca realized that it was probably too late. She had let him get away, all because of her stupid pride.

The car pulled into her driveway, signifying the end of the wretched date. He told her, "I'll call you."

She said, "Don't bother." Bianca slammed the door behind her and flounced up to her house, stopping to watch his perfect sports car speed away. He was gone.

Inside her house, she sunk down onto her bed, curled into a ball, and cried herself to sleep.


	6. Happily Ever After

The next morning, Bianca trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, where her father was topping off his mug of coffee. He grabbed a spare mug, filled it, and handed it to his daughter.

"Thanks, Daddy," she said, moaning a little as she eased herself into a chair.

"Rough night?" he asked sympathetically. When she nodded, he pried further, "Did your date go badly?"

Bianca recounted the events of the previous night. Her father answered by saying that he was sorry she'd gone through a breakup, but that he was proud of her for selling a painting.

"The worst part is," she moaned, "I had the perfect guy, right there in front of me for all that time, and I didn't realize it. I am such an idiot."

"You are not an idiot," her father reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you talk to him?"

"What's the point? I'm sure he's moved on," she said.

"How do you know until you try?" he asked. "Go to him. Tell him about your painting. If he's as great as you say he is, then I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

She thought about it a moment. Maybe her father had a point. What did she have to lose? She took a deep breath. "You're right. It's worth a try."

After showering and throwing on some casual but pretty clothes, Bianca hopped in her father's minivan and headed down the coast. Her heart raced in anticipation. Today she would find either love or heartbreak.

As soon as Bianca pulled up to the house, she saw Brian sitting on the front porch, strumming his beloved guitar. She shouted his name, barreling out of the car.

Brian looked up and froze like a deer in headlights. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked defensively.

"That's some greeting." She stopped in front of him, arms crossed. "Someone bought one of my pieces," she announced proudly.

"What?" he asked, placing his guitar to the side, standing up, and looking into her eyes. He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what she was saying, or perhaps that she was standing there.

Bianca could have been cautious. But she didn't care. She released all her enthusiasm, knowing that Brian would be disappointed if she held back. "I sold a painting!" she exclaimed.

"I knew you could do it," Brian said, finally breaking into a smile and opening his arms. Excited, she jumped up into them. He lifted her up and spun her around in a circle. Bianca shrieked as her legs flailed helplessly in air. She felt a little like she was flying.

Brian gently set her back down on her feet. His face was flushed, and they were both breathing heavily from the physial exertion and the excitement. "I'm really proud of you," Brian said, still smiling broadly.

Bianca noticed that even though she was standing on her own two feet, Brian hadn't moved his hands from her waist… so she didn't move hers from his shoulders. She was close enough to catch his scent. After wearing his clothes for months, she had gotten used to what he smelled like, but now… it was different somehow. God, he smelled so good. She breathed in deeply, giggling a little to release her giddiness. "Thanks." Silence hung between them; Bianca didn't want to end this perfect moment by starting in on a serious discussion.

Brian spoke first. "So… why are you here?" he began tenderly.

"I just wanted to tell someone," she answered, a little too offhand.

"Oh. I see." Brian let his arms drop to his side.

"No! That's not it!" she said frantically. What a start, she thought. "I mean, it is, but…" She hesitated, then blurted out, "I miss you."

"Really? But what about Dr. Prince Charming?" he said, only half-jokingly.

Bianca shook her head. "He's not right for me."

"Ah, but I thought he was handsome and everything. I thought he was exactly what you wanted." Brian ran his fingers gently down her arm, sending a chill down her spine.

"When I told him about my painting, he said, 'That's nice.' That's nice!" she said, making wide sweeping motions with her arms. "As if I said that I found a shampoo sale or something!" She looked up at Brian.

"I love how you talk with your hands when you get excited," Brian mumbled, laughing. He took her hands in his, weaving his fingers through hers. "And I happen to think that selling a painting is more exciting than finding a shampoo sale." He kissed her on the forehead. "In fact, I think it's pretty remarkable."

"You do?" She looked into his eyes; they sparkled as they caught the light of the sun.

"Yeah, I do. In fact, I think everything about you is remarkable."

Bianca shook her head slightly. "No - you're the remarkable one. I didn't realize until you weren't around anymore. I'm so sorry, Brian."

He smiled. "Well, you're here now. That's what matters." He leaned forward, so close, and waited for her to move to him.

Bianca's eyes fluttered closed. She brushed her lips against his. He kissed her gently, slowly.

Bianca waited a few seconds before pulling back. His lips were so soft, she thought with a slight smile. "Brian… thanks. I mean, for everything." Bianca spoke slowly; she wanted this to come out right. "You've done so much for me. I mean, you gave me a home. And you helped me stop being an uptight bitch."

Brian laughed. "Well, in that case, thank you… for being yourself. I could tell it wasn't easy," he teased.

"Oh, come on. That's nothing," she said.

Brian grinned. "No, it's definitely something. I was lucky to fall in love with you." Hastily, he added, with an apologetic smile, "I'm not usually this cheesy, I swear." He pulled her close against him and began to kiss her, not quite as softly this time.

Bianca kept bursting into a smile. She had thought that people were supposed to be serious and sexy and dignified as they kissed, at least, that's what movies had told her. This was nothing like that. It was fun and messy and exhilarating. Brian didn't try to show off any particular techniques or skills, and Bianca was relieved that she didn't feel that she needed to know what she was doing. He acted and she reacted gladly. He moved his lips against hers, with hers. In its own chaotic, passionate way, this kiss was more perfect than Bianca had even imagined.

…

Many months later, Bianca sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, her bare feet brushing the floor as she swung them back and forth. She sipped coffee as she glanced at the morning paper. The men's house was once again her home. She was attending a local art college, and had moved back in, wanting to be closer to school, in a place where artistic inspiration was abundant. Her art was thriving; more and more people had indeed started to buy her pieces, as her friend had guessed, and she had become locally famous.

"Hey, baby," she heard Brian say. Before she had time to react, his mouth had covered her own. He kissed her wildly, leaning her backwards, then broke away.

Breathless, Bianca grasped the edge of the countertop and regained her balance on the stool. Laughing, she said, "Good morning, Brian. You're in a good mood."

Brian shrugged. "I just have a feeling it's going to be a great day." He grabbed a doughnut from a box on the counter and bit into it. "What are you up to today?"

"Well, I've gotten most of my homework for the weekend done, so I think I'm going to paint. I don't know what, though, I'm not feeling particularly inspired."

"You could paint me. Just look at me. I'm like a living piece of art," he joked.

"You're a piece of something," she muttered, teasing him.

Brian pretended to sulk. "Come on. How can you be mean to me, after I kissed you like that?"

Bianca laughed. "You're right. You know, you're pretty cute, actually; I may actually sell a few potraits of you." She leaned in for another kiss.

"God, get a room," Trevor groaned, staggering into the kitchen with a hand shielding his eyes. "I don't want to see that before breakfast."

Laughing, Bianca honored Trevor's wishes, saying to Brian, "It's cool. We can go outside and I can start my painting."

Brian agreed, and after Bianca made a brief detour to grab her art supplies in her now-permanent bedroom area between Brian and Jakes' rooms, they stepped out into the sun. At Bianca's suggestion, he sat, leaning his back against a tree, as she made strokes on a paper with her watercolors. It was fun, she realized, to have an excuse to stare at Brian so intently for so long.

The longer he sat, the bigger his smile grew. "What?" she finally insisted.

"Will you marry me?"

Bianca's arm stopped moving. She stared at Brian. "What?" she asked incredulously.

"You're really going to make me repeat that?" An easy grin was stretched across Brian's face.

Bianca was still incapable of processing what Brian had just said. "Did you just ask me to marry you?" Slowly, she put the brush down, still not taking her eyes off of Brian.

"I did." He leaned forward, eager for her answer.

"Yes!" she shrieked. Bianca bounded towards Brian and leapt at him, practically pummeling him. "Oh my God, yes!" she screamed into his face, laughing as the two fell backwards onto the shady grass, a tangled mess of arms and legs.

Brian smiled and swept a curly tendril out of Bianca's face, then curled his hand around to the back of her neck and kissed her. "Will you calm down?" he begged. "I haven't even gotten a chance to give you the ring yet!"

Bianca gasped. "There's a ring?"

Brian looked at her. "Come on. Do you really think I'd propose without giving you a ring? What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"I'm sorry, you're right." Bianca sat up so that Brian could reach into his pocket. He retrieved a black velvet box and opened it, to reveal a simple solitary diamond ring. Wordlessly, he slid it onto her finger, then kissed her on the cheek.

"It's so pretty," Bianca said, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. She buried her face in Brian's chest. "This is so amazing. I'm so happy."

Brian kissed the top of her head. "I am too."

After they had spent a good deal of time kissing and talking and staring at the sky, Bianca and Brian walked down into the kitchen to show off her ring. When she held her hand up in the sunlight, letting the diamond sparkle, pandemonium ensued. The guys practically mobbed the two of them, generally saying "Congratulations" to Bianca and "You finally did it, man," to Brian. They all hugged Bianca and welcomed her into their "family," even though, of course, she was really already a part of it, and they offered their beautiful lawn for the wedding and reception.

Bianca thanked them gratefully, then excused herself. Grabbing her phone off of her bedside coffee table, she dialed a number she knew very well.

"Hello?" Her father's greeting sounded tired.

"Hi, Daddy. It's me."

"Oh, Bianca! How are you?" he asked, only slightly more enthusiastically.

Her father's lethargic tone worried Bianca. "Um, Daddy, are you alright?"

"Just didn't get much sleep, that's all," he answered. "There have been police calling here all night."

"Oh my gosh!" Bianca panicked. "Is everything alright?"

"They found Regina."

"Really? Where?"

"Out on the east coast. Apparently she decided to move away and start a new life, where no one would recognize her," John explained.

"Wow," she breathed, sitting down on her bed cross-legged.

"And people keep calling me, telling me more information, or questioning me. As if I can help them out. The woman was clearly a great mystery to me."

"Well, anything you say can probably help," Bianca reasoned. "I'm just glad they caught her. I still can't believe what she did to me. She completely went off the deep end."

"It appears so," her father sighed. "But she'll be punished for what she did to you, I'll make sure of it." After a slight pause, he wondered, "What was it that you were calling me about?"

Bianca had nearly forgotten, she was so wrapped up the horrible memory of Regina. But this question struck her back to the present. "I'm getting married!" she squealed into the phone.

"Married? Congratulations, honey! That's amazing." Her father sounded genuinely happy for her. "See? I've always told you that things will work out for you."

"Well, now I actually believe you," she joked. After a confession on her father's part that he had already known since Brian had come by to ask for permission, and a promise on Bianca's end to bring Brian by the house very soon for dinner, they hung up. Bianca sat on her bed, just thinking. She was engaged. To Brian. How incredible.


	7. Epilogue

Bianca and Brian's wedding was beautiful. There were gorgeous white lillies, talented musicians, and six best men to witness the occasion. Everyone they knew was present – except, of course, for Regina, who was serving time in jail for attempted murder. Bianca's father walked his daughter down the aisle. Anyone who was there can attest that Bianca had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment, observing Brian on the altar and glowing with happiness. They exchanged rings and said "I do." In a long white limo, they rode off together into the sunset.

And they lived happily ever after.

3 the end 3


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